Volume 3 — SONNET XL. DEC. 19TH, 1782. DECEMBER MORNING.[80]

I love to rise ere gleams the tardy light, Winter’s pale dawn;—and as warm fires illume, And cheerful tapers shine around the room, Thro’ misty windows bend my musing sight Where, round the dusky lawn, the mansions white, With shutters clos’d, peer faintly thro’ the gloom, That slow recedes; while yon grey spires assume, Rising from their dark pile, an added height By indistinctness given.—Then to decree The grateful thoughts to God, ere they unfold To Friendship, or the Muse, or seek with glee Wisdom’s rich page:—O, hours! more worth than gold, By whose blest use we lengthen life, and free From drear decays of age, outlive the old!